Canines of Death
by Wirogmaraf
Summary: A story I had to write months ago for school, Rubin's death in Rainie's POV. I ended up getting a complete 100% on it and on the entire project, trying not to brag (lmao). Rated T for violence/ blood and gore. Character death. Anyways, enjoy!


Those stupid dogs. Those _stupid, stupid_ dogs. Sniffing around, on the edge of finding the ghost coon, on the edge of making me lose those two dollars. Rubin, seeing exactly what I saw, had started threatening Billy to make his mutts stop searching, and to hand us the money. I mindlessly spoke in once in a while, just to have my voice heard. Sometimes that's all you need to keep your status: Your voice to be heard. But what my mind was really on were those dumb dogs, tails in the air. If they found the ghost coon, our side of the bet would be lost. So, I kept my eye on the hounds, and let my brother do all of the talking. Well, most of it.

Somehow, the words _beat you 'till death_ made me come out of my dog-watching trance. Remembering the threat from Billy's grandfather, I muttered, "Rubin, don't you…" He ignored me, and turned to the tree. The second he got his fat, intimidating hands around a branch, the larger hound started howling at an unsettling shape lost in the fog.

"I bet it's a ghost," I whispered, a sudden chill of fear overcoming me. We were silent, listening to the sound of crunching leaves in the middle of the night, coming closer. It walked strangely, until it occurred to me it was hunched onto four legs. _What sort of ghost is this?_ I wondered to myself.

As the shape came closer, the silhouette resolved into a hound. I squinted at it and recognized it as Old Blue, our blue tick hound. I sighed out of relief, repeating his name to reassure myself there was nothing to be afraid of. He turned to those mutts and growled. Billy, worried that my strong canine would harm his small, stupid pups, ordered that we got them away from Old Blue. Mockingly I giggled, "Well I'm not worried 'bout our hound. He's strong. He's gonna take care of the ghost coon _and_ your dogs."

Billy and Rubin bickered back and forth, threat to threat, call to call. Finally I couldn't take it anymore and shouted as loud as I could, "C'mon, beat him, Rubin!" A silly look of fear crawled onto strange Billy's face, and on his dogs' too as Old Blue crawled up to them. Once again I was consumed by the dogs' business. At first my big blue tick hound was winning the fight, teeth bared, claws out, hackles up. But almost from nowhere, a sudden growl came from the runt, and my hound was getting whipped. I stopped encouraging my brother while he was smacking that boy with his own hat, and screamed. "Stop it! Come off it, they're killing him!"

"What?!"

"They're _killing_ him! C'mon!" I pleaded for him to do something, to stop the fight. Old Blue was our only hunting dog, we needed him. If anyone could stop the fight, it was Rubin. I just made the bets.

Rubin snatched Billy's double-headed ax, and growled, "They're gonna get what's coming to them." Billy cried something out, a plea for mercy perhaps, but all I could do was laugh.

Those stupid dogs. Those _stupid, stupid_ dogs.

By now the runt's teeth were buried deep into Old Blue's neck, and the other was scratching at his thin skin. Old Blue had given up, I could see it in his dark eyes: Defeat. I couldn't lose my dog. Not here, not now. So my brother charged, and Billy flew to his hounds' side. I stood there, chuckling in excitement and anxiety.

I wish I wasn't looking when it happened. Looking is the type of stuff that messes up your head. Rubin's foot caught on a creeper-like stick. He tripped and collapsed straight to the ground. He laid there, curled, with the ax in his stomach.

Everyone knows that dumb feeling when someone jumps out at you. A brief second of sheer panic. Your stomach drops and your face becomes pale. Then you shake it off and laugh about it. I felt that nerve-wracking drop, but this time, it didn't go away. The feeling just sat there, like a stupid oaf, beating me from the inside.

I shuffled my feet over to Rubin, trying to muster words. It was that image of the ax in his stomach that made me feel like there was one in mine. My breathing grew unsteady as everything in the world became dull. Tears welled in my eyes as everything faded into a sort of foggy depth and there was a ringing in my head. I heard a muffled Billy, asking me what the matter was. The sensation of touch on my shoulder brought me back to reality. My heart beat too fast, and the panic rose from a ten to one-hundred.

With no thoughts, just the image etched in my mind, I ran. Just _ran_. Hot tears spilled down my face as I fled the woods. When I reached home, I flung myself in front of my family and cried with all my heart. They stared at me as if I was crazy, but hey, you never know. My words were combined with spit, just so that no one had any idea what I was saying. Once I calmed down a bit, in the arms of my mother, I slowly stated what had happened.

You would think an image like that would go away after a while. But on that night, the thought occurred to me that something like that could never go away in a lifetime.


End file.
